The Closet
by samusSMASH
Summary: Ellis and Nick both thought they had died, until they woke up together in a closet.


"Hey, Nick."

"What. Ellis."

"We're stuck in tha closet together, Nick."

"You know, Ellis? Comments like that are why everyone thinks we're gay."

"…wait, what?" Ellis blinked up at Nick. "People think that? …why?"

Nick sighed and slammed his forehead against the door in a vain attempt to block this moment from his mind. He had given up trying to discern how he and Ellis had ended up in this cramped closet together but that did not mean he had to accept it. He could at least attempt to give himself brain damage and spend the rest of his sad closet existence in ignorant bliss.

None of it made any sense.

He had died, hadn't he? Yes. Yes, he had, and then he had apparently cashed in on an extra life that only worked in closets.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have elbowed that Witch in the face.

Ellis had died soon after him, having been boomed on, spitted on and then jockeyed into the inevitable oncoming horde. According to him, Rochelle and Coach had been too busy being completely useless to actually be of any help.

Now they were in a closet together.

"Hell is a closet," Nick mumbled. "A teeny, tiny, stupid, stickin' closet full of nothingness and Ellises."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Nick went back to slamming his head against the door. He had to remind himself that he was alive by periodically applying door directly to his forehead.

Ellis was content to watch the other man from his spot on the floor, obviously taking the whole dead thing better than Nick. He was, however, so horribly bored at that point that even Nick's personal form of self-mutilation was no longer entertaining. Physical humor could only take one so far, and Nick was far from Three Stooges status. They were legendary after all.

Ellis dug through his pockets, hoping to find some hidden object that could ease his boredom. To his luck, he found a pack of cards he had forgotten about in the wake of the infection.

"Wanna play cards? Or are ya too busy givin' yerself brain damage?" Ellis asked, holding up the deck with an innocent smile on his face.

Nick slowly turned his head to face Ellis, a strange look in his eyes.

"You…have…cards?" he said in a low voice. Ellis swore, that for a split second, Nick's eyes glowed red.

"…yes?" he squeaked.

"And you didn't think to mention it till now?"

"I kinda forgot I had 'em," Ellis admitted, squirming under Nick's rage induced stare.

To his surprise, Nick slowly plopped down next to him without another word, and held out a hand. Ellis raised an eyebrow.

"Gimme the deck," Nick insisted. "Also, you're a dumbass."

Ellis smiled, ignored Nick's insult and handed him the cards, watching in awe as the other man deftly shuffled the cards.

"Know how to play poker?" the seasoned card shark asked as the cards moved in his hands.

Ellis shifted nervously.

"I played strip poker once," he admitted. "I lost though."

Nick paused in his shuffling.

"I don't want to see you naked, Ellis."

"But it's the only kind of poker I know how to play!" Ellis protested, looking a bit hurt. "Besides, I don't think I'm bad to look at."

Nick dropped a couple cards.

"Ellis…it's…ah…poker is the same…" Nick stuttered. "Just, never mind. Once again, Ellis, you are missing the point entirely."

"Well, it doesn't matter. If you wanna play poker, that's how it's gotta be," Ellis pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You know what? Fine," Nick consented, rubbing the space between his eyes and wishing he hasn't just been bashing his head against a wall. "I would have preferred a least a couple girls involved though."

"Why?"

"I hate you."

"Well, I like you, Nick."

It took ever fiber in his body to not leap at Ellis and do his best impersonation of a Hunter. If he did kill the younger man, he would probably just come back to life inside the crate in the corner. Sure, it was sealed shut, but he would probably have to listen to Ellis whine to let him out.

The urge to kill slowly passed. Nick sighed and began dealing the cards.

"I'm going to regret this…"

Nick could have predicted the outcome of their game. It was such a cliché, that he almost expected a corny laugh-track to play after the half an hour mark passed. Ellis found himself lacking several important articles of clothing. Only his boxers and trusty baseball cap remained.

Nick, however, was missing a shoe.

"Why didn't you take off the cap first, Ellis? I think I've hit my partial male nudity quota for the rest of my life."

"This hat is sacred, man!" Ellis insisted, clutching the cap against his head as though he was afraid Nick would snatch it off. "I'd sooner go naked as the day I was born than part with it for a second."

"So, you were born with that hat on your head?"

"Well…no…"

"I think I'm done," Nick tossed the cards to the floor and stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to return to my previous activity.

Nick resumed smashing his head against the door while Ellis played 52 pick-up in his boxers.

In between the sounds of his own skull hitting wood, Nick could vaguely hear the sounds of muffled shouting. He paused to listen.

"Did'ja break your brain, Nick?"

"Shh…" Nick hissed. "I think I hear the others."

Sure enough, over the gunfire and the guttural cries of the zombies, Nick could hear Coach's familiar voice.

"It's Coach!" Nick said, smirking. "We're finally getting out of here!"

"Aw…don't cha like my company, Nick?" Ellis asked, looking legitimately hurt.

Nick sighed.

"Well, I like your company."

"See! There you go again!" Nick yelled, throwing up his hands in frustration and pacing around the limited area of their prison. "Everything you say is estrogen bait! They can smell the closeted gay on you! They write things! Eeevil things!"

"…what?"

"Hey! Come out of the closet you two!" shouted Coach, his screaming much more audible than before. "We could really use your help out here!"

Nick stopped his raving and blinked. He held his hand up to his face and flexed his fingers. His eyes moved to the door, then back to his hand.

Come out of the closet? Now, why hadn't he thought of that? Nothing was stopping him from leaving.

He reached for the door knob only to discover his hand slipped right off the smooth metal. Annoyed, he shook his hand and tried again. Despite his best efforts, he could not get a grip on the handle.

"I can't!" he called through the door, pressing his face against the wood. The sounds of gunfire had faded and were replaced by the dull sound of a baseball bat striking rotting flesh.

"Why not?" Coach responded, sounding exasperated. Zombies he could handle; stupid formerly deceased teammates tried his patience.

"I seem to be stricken with some form of brain damage probably associated with my very recent death and have forgotten how to open doors." He paused. "Sorry about that."

Nick heard Rochelle's muffled scream. She sounded quite angry.

"Hey! You should be amazed that I'm alive at all!" Nick called through the door. "Why aren't you amazed! Be amazed, dammit!"

"And you say I'm the stupid one," Ellis laughed, getting up from his spot on the floor. "Lemme try. It ain't that hard ta open a door, Nick." He lightly shoved Nick out of the way and reached for the door knob. Much to his surprise, his hand slapped uselessly against the door. "That's…weird."

Nick and Ellis exchanged dumbfounded looks.

A Tank roared outside.

"Maybe it's locked from the outside?" Nick suggested, rubbing at his stubble.

"Nah, that's stupid. Who makes a closet door that locks from the outside?"

"It's a broom closet." Nick pointed at the one broom leaning against a corner. "Broom closets have locks. I think."

"Whatever. "Ellis picked up his combat shotgun. "Time for plan B. Let's shoot the shit out of it."

Nick was about to protest the latest of Ellis's questionable ideas, but Ellis had already started furiously executing plan B on the door.

After the flurry of splinters and dust died down, and Nick had stopped coughing, he looked up to see that the door was still fully intact save for a few minor bullet holes.

"No. Freakin'. Way," gaped Ellis, his gun hanging loosely in his hands. "That is one sturdy god-damned door. We should use that against the horde, I mean, damn!"

"For once, I agree with you, Ellis, but we'd probably never be able to get it out of the door jam."

"My GOD!" Rochelle screeched from just outside their closet prison. She swung the door open, giving them a glare that would have stopped a Tank in its tracks. "What is WRONG with you two? We nearly DIED fighting off the biggest horde we've seen…since…" Rochelle stopped mid-sentence and gave Ellis a strange look. "Ellis, sweetie, why are you half-naked?"

Ellis grinned widely. "Well, we were playin'…"

"I swear to god, this isn't what it looks like!" Nick interrupted, his face turning red with a mix of rage and embarrassment. He grabbed his AK from the floor and stormed out the door. He then turned on his heel and stomped back in the closet, snatched up his shoe and walked back out again with significantly less gusto.

"What was that about?" Rochelle asked.

"Nick doesn't like strip poker," Ellis answered as he picked his clothing off the floor piece by piece. "Don't know why. He was winnin'."

"You can stop there," Rochelle sighed.

Nick mumbled incoherently as he searched the rubble for ammo and supplies.

"How did we get here anyway?" Ellis pondered, as he gathered his clothes. He stared back at the closet as though he expected it to disappear after he exited.

"At this point," Coach sighed, dropping his empty gun and picking up a conveniently placed grenade launcher. "I have learned to stop asking questions."

"Good advice," muttered Nick. He picked through a random pile of ammo until he found some compatible with his rifle. He reloaded his AK-47 with great flourish and turned to face his companions.

"Well, let's get going people. Those zombies aren't going to kill themselves."

"But Nick…" Ellis protested as he hopped around with one leg in his jumpsuit and his shirt on backwards.

"Don't wanna hear it." Nick turned and walked towards the rising sun, his AK slung over his shoulder.

The others followed, with Ellis bringing up the rear, his shirt still on backwards and one sock missing.

* * *

I keep writing Couch instead of Coach...oops...


End file.
